A slight motion of my head implied the denial I could not speak. She took my hand, said it felt cold, went into the next room, whence she brought some heavy garment, with which she covered me. I felt rather than saw her lingering by me; then I heard her leaving the room softly. My heart swelled as the door closed on her. Not one word of faith or doubt had she uttered, and yet her voice was both compassionate and kind. It was plain that she too thought me guilty, pitied, and forgave me. "Be it so!" I thought, with sullen and bitter grief: "let every one accuse me, I acquit myself; let no one believe in me, I keep faith in my own truth. I shall learn how to do without their approbation and their belief." I remained in this mood, until, after the lapse of some hours, Kate once more came near me. Again she bent over me and asked if I slept. I opened my heavy eyes, but, dazzled by the light, I soon closed them again. "Come down to dinner," she said gently. "I am not hungry." There was a pause; I fancied her gone, and looked; she was standing at the foot of my bed, gazing at me with a very sorrowful face. "Daisy," she said, in her most persuasive accents, "have you nothing to say to me?" I looked at her; her glance told me she asked for a confession, not for justification, so I replied-- "Nothing, Kate," and again closed my eyes. She left me, but soon returned, carrying a small tray with a plate, on which there was some fowl and a glass of wine. She wanted me to eat. I assured her I was not hungry. "Try," she urged; "I promised Cornelius not to leave you without seeing you take something." To please her I tried, but she saw that the attempt sickened me; she pressed me to take the wine. "Cornelius poured it out in his own glass," she said, "and tasted it before sending it up; so you must have some." Wine seldom appeared on our frugal table; it had been forbidden to me as injurious; but Cornelius always left me some in his glass, which he made me drink slyly, whilst his sister pretended to look another way. I knew why he had now sent me this; it was a token of old affection living still, spite of what happened. I would not refuse the pledge: I sat up, and taking the glass from Kate, I raised it to my lips; but as I did so, the thought of the past thus evoked made my heart swell; a sensation of choking came upon me; I felt I could not swallow one drop, and laid down the glass untasted. Kate sighed, but she saw it was useless to insist, so, hoping I would try again in her absence, she left me.